Rebirth
by NightFrostBreeze
Summary: A story is a fragile thing. One minor detail can turn a narrative on its head, for better or for worse. As an example, what if the weather in episode 8 had been just a little bit cloudier, so that the people of Cloud City didn't hear Greg's prayer? Note-This is basically an OtGW fanfiction with major GF "cameos" a bit later on.
1. Chapter 1

-Greg-

A light snow had fallen, covering the late autumn world in its chilling grip, begging to be left in its pristine whiteness. About half the sun had risen above the horizon line, it's pure golden rays spilling into the sky and reflecting off the snowfall. Greg sat up groggily. Somehow he hadn't slept well lying on the ground, with a blanket of leaves and snow and a teapot "elephant head" as his pillow. Nevertheless, he was determined to use his _unlimited power_ to lead him and his brother home.

"Come on, oh-brother-of-mine, time to seize the day!"

The young boy playfully prods the still form of his sibling, who was still hidden under leaves and snow.

"Up and at them, the early frog catches the worm!"

This last line was in response to Wirt Jr hopping over and giving his trademark "Rwaort". When Wirt Sr still doesn't respond, Greg picks up the frog and gives him a shake, causing the amphibian's belly to glow.

"The ringing of the bell comaaaands you to… turn into a magical tiger! Only joking, just get up already!"

Finally, Greg puts down Wirt Jr and shakes the debris off his brother, revealing the twisted branches of an edelwood tree snaking their way across Wirt's body. The teenager was in a fetal position, still trying to keep the cold of the night away. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing. His pointy hat was crumpled nearby at the base of the tree.

"Wirt…? Wirt get that tree off of you, it's time to go!"

The younger sibling tried to pry apart the tree with his small, chubby hands. When that doesn't work, he desperately reaches through the branches to shake his brother awake. Greg stubbornly remained cheerful, pretending Wirt was just playing a prank on him, and would open his eyes at any moment, ready to continue their adventure.

"Get up already! W-we're going to go home today! Yeah! Isn't that right, creepy shadow man?"

A tree like, antlered figure had been watching the two brothers for the duration of their exchange, hidden in the predawn shade. The master of the wood's rainbow rimmed eyes narrow in response to Greg's casual reference to him, but he still coolly replies in a deep, monotone rumble,

" **No. He shall stay here, in the forest, with me. Do not worry. You will join him soon enough."**

"But, becoming a tree doesn't sound very fun! I mean, how are you supposed to move around?"

The Beast suddenly appears a step closer to Greg, not saying a word but possessing a quiet fury in his round, glowing eyes, the only obvious detail of his inky black face. The two stare at each other for an intense moment, until Wirt Jr breaks away out of fear and hops deeper into the woods.

"Wait Mr. Hopkins! We still need to get Wirt out!"

The Beast laughs softly as Greg chases the frog and disappears into the gloom of the forest. He was then alone with Wirt. The spectral figure notes how beautifully the tree had taken root, its vines tearing into the boy's timid soul. In a few days, it would be ripe for harvest.

-Woodsman, that night-

The crunching of booted footsteps rang out through the forest, and suddenly picked up speed as they headed closer to the clearing. The Beast smoothly blended in with the shadow of the trees before the approaching figure could see him.

"Edelwood! Sweet sweet edelwood!"

The Woodsman cried out as he approached the ominous plant. He whispered something encouraging into the lantern, then brought it up to better illuminate his prize. Just as he was about to cut into the tree, he spotted the prone form of a young man trapped within.

"No…"

He tried to tear some of the branches apart to get a better look, yet the springy vines of the juvenile tree only bended a little. But the Woodsman saw what he needed to see.

"No, this can't be… this can't be what I've been burning all of these years!"

He hits the tree in frustration, then stares at the flame in the lantern with tears welling in his eyes.

"Anna…"

As the man is focused on the flickering fire, the Beast's shadow rises from the darkness, until the creature is close enough to peer over the Woodsman's shoulder and whisper into his ear.

" **Would it have mattered?"**

"Of course it would have."

The Woodsman looks toward the tree determinedly, not even glancing back at the monster who was right behind him.

"One cannot simply trade in the lives of children-"

He pauses to lift his heavy axe,

"As if they were tokens!"

The axe is brought down, striking far into the edelwood. But as the Woodsman raised the axe again, the soft bark was already mending itself, stronger than before. The man is taken aback, as a deep laughter echoes across the clearing.

" **You cannot save him, Woodsman. The edelwood has taken root, the boy's spirit is mixing with the soil as we speak."**

The Beast strokes the twisted bark tenderly, almost lovingly. Then he turns back to the man as if mocking him.

" **I could sense the boy's weakness from the moment he set foot here. Trust me, he wouldn't have lasted, with or without my… assistance."**

The whisky haired man glowered, but could come up with no retort.

" **Come back the morning after next, and you'll have a nice fresh supply for your daughter's soul."**

After the beast left, the Woodsman continued to fiercely attack the growing edelwood. He tried many more times to sever its roots, but the stubborn sapling refused to give up its contents, every inch of cut tendons growing back in spades. The forlorn man fell to his knees just as the sun was rising, exhausted and beaten.

He stared once again at the lantern, which seemed to be growing dimmer, and then back at the edelwood. He contemplated what the Beast had told him. If this boy was to die anyway, then perhaps it would be a kindness to use his parting gift to the world as sustenance for another. The Woodsman shock his head, disgusted he would even think such a thought. He would save this boy! ...and if not him, then at least his little brother.

-Greg again, earlier that day-

"Gotcha!"

The young boy had finally managed to pounce on his wayward frog, tackling him to the ground and then bouncing up with the amphibian in his grasp.

"Rwaort"

The frog with no name grumbled, perhaps in protest.

"Come on Walt Disney, we need to go rescue Wirt!"

Greg turned determinedly back towards the clearing, striding forth with a bounce in his step. After perhaps an hour's worth of walking, that bounce began to dissipate. In his haste to capture Walt Disney, Greg couldn't remember the exact route he had taken, but he felt he should have reached his destination by now. The boy hadn't been able to notice the new abundance of broad-leaved saplings tangling together in the gloom, complicating the path.

"I'm sure we'll find him soon, just a little further!"

"Rrrwaort!"

"No I don't think we took a wrong turn, we haven't even ever been to Albrercurci!"

The companions continued through the twisting, maze-like undergrowth. The few cicadas who were left this late in the season played a mournful, droning melody, punctuated by the occasional cawing of crows or warbles of turkeys. The sun soon sat high in the sky, but thick clouds and the remaining fall leaves almost completely masked its light. The air was still brisk, not helped by the lack of sunlight and sparse patches of snow still sprinkled around on tree trunks and fern leaves.

Greg found himself shivering. The once exciting but now mechanical act of walking was slowly exhausting the child. He wished with all his heart that he could snuggle up next to his older brother-who would probably just shy away (no matter, Greg loved him anyway)- and once again tell his melancholy sibling that everything would be alright. The child secretly wished to be reassured himself.

Walt Disney had been hopping alongside him for a while, escaping from Greg's arms but staying obediently by his side. He was cold himself, without socks or any other clothing, but the ship of that possible life had sailed. The frog's duty now lay in protecting this child. He didn't think he was up to the task, but the boy had no one else left now.

"You know, I thought of a new name for you, Walt Disney."

Greg felt a little hope return as he broke the growing silence of the woods, as the light hearted chit chat briefly distracted him from the impossibly gloomy atmosphere. The frog previously known as Walt Disney (as well as Kitty, Wirt, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and others), responded after a long pause in his usual way, perhaps a bit weaker than normal but nothing Greg noticed.

"I'm going to call you Candypants!"

"Wraaaort?"

"Yes, I know you don't wear pants OR have candy, but… this way we can just pretend, ok? Remember, we can do anything!"

"Wraort…"

Greg's usual happy go lucky attitude had faded completely by the time the orange streaks of sunset weaved their way through the forest. The boy had stopped to rest many times, but each time he managed to get back up and keep moving, even when Candypants had fallen asleep in his arms. The shadows of ghost handed trees stretched long into their path, and a nasty northern wind blew mercilessly. The creamsicle sky was increasingly stained with the lavender of gathering storm clouds. Greg wanted to go home.

-Beatrice, that same evening-

Gliding just below the treetops, a bluebird who had once been human was in a similar situation. She had been on the wing almost nonstop for the last few days, over extending her songbird stamina on multiple occasions.

"Wirt…! Greg!"

The two names had lost all meaning, becoming only a series of syllables executed in a familiar order.

"Greg…! Wirt…?!"

Not that she didn't occasionally mix things up.

Beatrice eventually found herself perched on a leaf stripped branch, gasping to fill her tiny lungs with air. She had no memory of alighting on the limb, but didn't dwell on this fact. As soon as she was physically able, the bluebird took off once again further into the forest.

("Why am I even doing this?")

Beatrice pondered to herself for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

("Meandering around the same old patches of trees searching for two boys who I barely even know and are probably dead now.")

Even during these bitter thoughts, Beatrice secretly knew the reason she kept calling for the brothers. She couldn't return to her family, knowing that she had cursed them all to the short and harsh life of a bluebird with no hope of a cure. The scissors must have been connected to Adelaide's life somehow, turning into dust as she did. Beatrice tried not to dwell on mistake, instead focusing on two lives she could still possibly save. And so she doggedly flew on, clinging to the impossible hope that she'd somehow fly into the two hopelessly lost kids with no purpose left in the world.

Amazingly, half of her wish came true.

Hidden in the pitch black shadows of the trees, the bluebird failed to notice the small boy clutching a sleeping frog ambling into her path. If weariness had not been dragging her flight down, Beatrice would have flown right over the pair without even realizing it, and would have continued her calls long after the boy was too far away to hear. Luckily, the bird flew straight into the child's face. The impact dazed Beatrice, but she regained focus moments later with Greg beaming down at her, words spilling from his mouth like a flooding faucet.

"...SaidYouWeren'tComingBackButHeMustHaveLiedToSurpiseMeOhBlueFeatheredFriendOfMineNowWeCanContinueOurAdvdentureAnd…"

Beatrice shook head, trying to make sense of the babble.

("No, it's not just me, he's really speaking that fast.")

"Greg, Greg slow down. Take a breath."

The often defiant child actually took this advice, suddenly pausing his dissertation to inhale dramatically, like a fish breathing in dry air. As Beatrice took the moment to organize her thoughts, part of the boy's spiel came back to her in clarity.

" _Wirt said you weren't coming back."_

The few precious seconds of relief were replaced by bitterness. Couldn't that thick headed, over sensitive brat have figured out that she wasn't going to betray them? Well, she was going to betray them, but considering she poisoned Adelaide to death it seemed pretty obvious she had changed her mind.

"So where is that-, so where is your brother?"

Greg beamed as he proclaimed his next line, not knowing its implications.

"He was eaten by a tree!"

-Wirt, time unknown-

Buried, brought down to the depths by the unrelenting rapids of time, the taste of fresh air but a dream long forgotten. Wirt was beyond tired. Snippets of his life whizzed by with little context or direction. Riding a bike on a summer evening, practicing the clarinet alone in his room, Greg ripping apart his drawings when he was a toddler. Wirt attempted to shut his eyes and block out the sounds, but his body refused to obey even a simple command, opting for lazy stillness. Sinking deeper and deeper into the delicate thickets of the his mind, with voices of the past shouting in his face, the child was compelled by an unseen light. It promised silence. It promised rest. Gentle hands guided his statue still form. A final, storm flung wave of thoughts drowned him in fires of remembrance, of music and dancing and potatoes with a sweet sticky topping. But the child was already content with the earth's noiseless melody. With a final sigh, Wirt drifted into the new unknown.

-Greg again again, still that same evening-

Greg was confused when he saw Beatrice's eyes expand in fear. What was so scary about being eaten by a tree? Trees weren't scary! Wirt could just climb out when he woke up. In fact, he'd probably already done so, and was searching for him at that very moment. Greg was absolutely sure of it.

"Hey, magic bluebird?"

"I told you Greg, I'm not magic-"

"Wirt wasn't _actually_ eaten by a tree."

"He wasn't?!"

"No-o-o-ope, there were just a bunch of vines tying him down, and he wouldn't move even when Candypants commanded him to, and there was this big deer headed guy, but he wasn't eaten by a tree!"

Greg's face fell when his attempt at clarification only seemed to upset the bird further. But he quickly picked his face back up again.

"I'll show you where that brother o mine is, then you'll see he's ok!"

Without warning, the little kid's feet skidded on the leafy ground, rushing the child forward with newfound enthusiasm. They hadn't traveled far when Beatrice's blunt voice quashed his flight.

"Do you actually know where he is?"

"Umm, no."

Greg's eyes grow wide as he whispers to his frog companion, blearily awake now due to the commotion.

"How did she know? Maybe she really is magic!"

"Well considering it looks like you've been wandering the woods alone for hours-"

"Wraaort!"

"Yeah, I'm not alone, Candypants is with me!"

"Let's just find somewhere to rest for the night."

Greg was in no short supply claims that he wasn't tired, and that he was the leader and could do whatever he wanted to do. However, when a leaf lined, relatively cozy tree hollow was provided to him, those claims became meaningless. As he drifted off, the boy lazily glanced at the now clear sky, and had a vague notion that he should be pulling down its underwear…

Light poured from the stars, as strong as the rays of the sun. Greg's spirit floated away from his sleeping body, and he breathed an excited "wow" while doing a backflip in the air. This must be what Beatrice felt like. Golden, winged women floated gracefully down to the boy's side, and while singing a beautiful, high-pitched tune, they guided the boy up into the heavens.

("Oh boy, another adventure!")

" _We're the Cloud City, reception committee, and we are here to welcome thee~"_

As the real sun began to rise the next day, Greg woke up with a renewed sense of optimism.

-Beatrice, the next morning-

The air had warmed considerably. Gentle sunlight poured from the sky, setting the few scattered clouds into a pinkish hue. The birds sung sweet melodies of travel or of seeds and grubs. The world in general was masquerading as a bright, cheerful place.

Beatrice stubbornly refused to let the fair weather affect her, and was in a sour mood.

"Sun's out, get up already, it's time to go!"

The bluebird popped her head into the hollow where Greg had been sleeping, only to find a sleeping frog and piles of leaves.

"Greg…?!"

Beatrice's moment of panic was alleviated when a faint tune was heard a little ways from the hollow. The little kid was busy grabbing handfuls of random forest objects whilst singing another made-up song.

"Gonna get some nuts

Or we'll be out of luck

'Cause if we don't have nuts

We'll say 'aw nuts!'

Gathering some twigs and sticks

So that we can make these things stick

And some leaves and weird shaped rock~"

"Greg, we don't need any of that stuff."

"But what if… we do?"

His eyes widened, daring his friend to come up with a response.

"We won't. Now moving onto more important matters-"

"But the big sky lady told me to be prepared! What if we get caught by a turkey and have no leaves to distract it with?!"

"We're in a forest Greg. We are surrounded by leaves at all times!"

"You say that now…"

As the two were in their deep discussion, Candypants hopped out of the hollow and gave a sleepy "Wroart."

"You're right Sergeant Toadster! We do need to go find Wirt!"

The child stuffed a few more fistfuls of debris into his already overstuffed pockets, them pointed a finger forward dramatically.

"Let's move out!"

The three companions started out at a steady pace, Greg kicking forth piles of fallen leaves with every enthusiastic step, Sergeant Toadster causing a soft, rhythmic crunch with every leap, and Beatrice hovering above the mess with precise wingbeats. The youngest in the group was humming the same tune he sang earlier, with wild birds and even other, less musical creatures joining into the lighthearted, wordless melody.

("What's with the Snow White act?")

Beatrice thought, unnerved by the morning's continuous merriment. Partially out of curiousity, but mostly stemming from a desire to bring the mood down to a more natural state, the bluebird posed a question.

"So what exactly happened with your brother anyway?"

"I told you, he was eaten by a tree!"

"Yeah yeah I got that part, I meant before then. After you left Adelaide's house?"

"Oh, well… we walked around more, and Wirt said you would catch up and that he had a plan, and then we found this house which was supposed to be abandoned, and he did chores with a pretty girl while the Sergeant swallowed a bell, and then Auntie Whispers came and Laura was mean so Wirt shook the Sergeant and turned her into a magical tiger, and then we walked more and Wirt said he didn't have a plan, and he said I could be leader and then he fell asleep."

"...Right, that explains everything _."_

Greg grinned wide, not catching Beatrice's sarcasm. The once-human contemplated asking for further details, but decided it probably wasn't worth it. They had all paused during Greg's tale, and so Beatrice lifted herself into the air and said grumpily, "Come on, we still have a long way to go."

Yet, as if to prove the bluebird wrong, it took less than an hour of walking to reach their destination. The forest began to thin, the once crowded path opening up like a theater curtain, revealing the banks of a partially flooded river, a dark-clothed man sitting alone in contemplation, and a pair of trees. The first of which was old and battle scarred, standing tall even as the second grasped at it in a choking grip. The latter was a specter, a ghastly imitation of a plant, its gnarled, ghost white bark twisted into the impressions of horrified human faces. Its blood red leaves rose to about half the height of the elder tree.

"Oh! That's the man I knocked out!"

Greg pointed an excitedly at the lonely figure. Beatrice gave him a look. What sort of mayhem did the child unleash before she had so graciously rescued them?

Upon spotting the companions, the Woodsman scrambled upright and stumbled in their direction. He looked haggard and paranoid.

"The Beast! The Beast is near, you must flee, quickly, or else-"

"Waaaay ahead of you, creepo."

Beatrice was slowly stepping away, tugging on Greg's pant leg in an effort to get him to do the same. Unfortunately, the child had spotted something at the base of the trees and paid the bluebird no mind. He ran right past the Woodsman and arrived at a forlorn pointy hat.

"Beatrice look, Wirt dropped his hat!"

Greg held the hat above his head in triumph, then looked over at the edelwood.

"And this must be that mean ol' tree. Growing up so fast, without any carrot juice. What is the world coming to?"

He clicked his tongue at the plant.

"Now where did that brother o' mine roam off to? His head will freeze without clothing."

"Y-you're his little brother!"

Recognition blazed through the Woodsman's eyes. Forgetting about the teapot-hatted child had been an impressive feat, but the man's last couple of days had been trying.

"I'm sorry, young man, but you're brother, he-"

Beatrice suddenly swooped towards the Woodsman's face, startling the older man. Once she was close, she hissed into his ear,

"Don't tell him! Then they'll both become shrubbery!"

The Woodsman gazed into the bluebird's eyes, and nodded solemnly. This was a wise bird.

"Alright Greg, l-let's go find your dimwitted brother."

Beatrice did her best to keep her voice natural, and luckily the child didn't seem to pick up on her wavering tone.

"Ok ok, goodbye Mr. Really Tall Man! Goodbye brother-eating tree!"

Greg patted the edelwood's knotted trunk,

"You be good! Drink your carrot juice!"

The Woodsman pointed towards a path he knew was relatively friendly for travelers. "He headed in that direction."

To his relief, the ragtag group followed his advice without much fuss.

As they continued their march, Beatrice kept a close eye on Greg. The little boy could be surprisingly mature, and she worried how long this charade would last.

("One thing at a time Bea, one thing at a time…")

Back at the clearing, the Woodsman picked up his axe, glanced one last time at the edelwood, and headed out in the opposite direction. He had no reason to stay in this dreary place

-Wirt, dawn of the third day-

There were no sounds or colors in the place Wirt resided. No smells or tastes, no thoughts or dreams, and no other souls. There was darkness and there was cold. There was no sense of time passing. Even the boy's spirit was slipping into the void, becoming one with it in unnamed intervals. This was perhaps the closest to nothingness a human could ever experience, before truly slipping into it. Yet something, a mysterious something in this world of nothing kept him from giving in. An ember, sparked somewhere on his head or heart or… it was really hard to tell where it originated to tell the truth. But it was there, and despite the odds it was growing stronger. It fought back the darkness, fought back the nothingness, and painstakingly brought back a spirit so close to slipping away. The sense of sight had returned, though not much else. There was enough light to see, to see the unnamed body half consumed by darkness. In flux. The light became stronger, and then there was only white. And cold.

Wirt woke up with half his mind still in the void. He couldn't remember who he was and what he was doing in this empty place, with bark and twigs pressing against him on all sides, covering already deathly cold skin with scratches and bruises. He wasn't in the presence of mind to notice how strange it was for a completely enclosed space to somehow have enough dim light to see. Not that there was much to see, just the grainy bark of the walls and the aforementioned pokey twigs and little, maple-like leaves growing in random places. Wirt tried to move, slowly at first but with increasing intensity as he fought to escape his wooden prison. The small, unventilated space was suffocating him, and the teenager desperately kicked out at a wall with all the force he could muster.

The edelwood tree bent, groaned, and snapped, a hole being punched out from its inside and a human figure falling towards the unforgiving earth. Wirt landed awkwardly on the ground in front of him, his face getting covered in snow. Which helped wake him up, at least. The teenager quickly got up and looked around, trying to gather his thoughts. He remembered being with someone else, or a few other people, but part of him seemed unable to grasp the concept of companionship.

Reflexively, he felt his head, and was somewhat surprised when he felt branches there. That didn't seem familiar. Becoming fearful but also curious, Wirt stumbles over to a nearby puddle that had frozen over. He dared to glance into the mirror-like pool, not knowing what he'd find.

There were two edelwood branches sprouting from his ruffled, chestnut brown hair like antlers, and inside each set of interlocking vines was a small flickering flame. His face seemed familiar yet strange, like an acquaintance he once knew quite well but had grown distant from. His ears seemed too big, his beaklike nose too… red. His overall appearance was haggard and older than he thought he was, and the only aspect of himself that wasn't outright alien were his hazel brown eyes. As those eyes stared at the ice, poetry naturally filled Wirt's mind.

("A leaf drifts through the wind, floating freely without thought, knowing where it's going and yet completely lost. ...huh, did I mean for that to rhyme? That seems… unlike me.")

A gruff voice shock him away from his reflections.

"You there! What are you doing alone in these woods?! It's too dangerous to-"

The woodsman stopped mid rant as Wirt turned around. Fear exploded through both of their eyes.

"You shouldn't… no, you can't be alive! How…"

As the larger man was trailing off, Wirt slowly edged away, glancing nervously at the sharpened axe the man was clutching all too tightly.

"Look, sir, I don't mean to cause any trouble, we're just a couple of… I mean I'm just a…"

Now it was Wirt's turn to trail off, as he tried to remember who was with him. In one sudden instant, the memories of his brother Greg come flooding back. Forgetting the danger he was in, Wirt couldn't stop himself from blurting out a question.

"M-my brother, Gregory. He was… kind of pudgy, and short. He talked a lot and was always smiling. He had a… green hoppy thing with him. Do you know where he is?"

As the brown haired teenager stumbled through his question, the Woodsman finally noticed the obvious antlers now adorning the skinny boy's head. And he came to the only reasonable conclusion. This was not Wirt, the weak willed wanderer he had discovered in the woods with his brother. The Beast had gotten to him first, stolen his soul, and was now masquerading as him to gain the whereabouts of that innocent child Greg. The Woodsman's eyes narrow.

"You think you can fool me, you sick monster."

His voice was barely a whisper.

Wirt took a step back, and promptly slipped on the ice he had previously been staring at. He landed hard on his back, the wind being knocked out of him as pain exploded through his abdomen. He opened his eyes to see the Woodsman towering above him.

Fear flooded through the boy's veins, and once again the cruel blade of the axe dominated his vision. Then more memories came back, this time of his previous encounters with the Woodsman.

Forcefully, Wirt managed to tear his gaze away deadly weapon for a moment, and focused on the softly glowing lantern clutched in the man's other hand. As he summoned the rest of his willpower, the flames tucked in his edelwood antlers flared up. Instead of bathing the area in light, they consumed it, casting darkness into the mid morning, until only the lantern's light remained.

The Woodsman gasped and started to raise the axe towards the thought-to-be-Beast, and held up the lantern to better his aim. Seizing the opportunity, Wirt sprang up and kicked the lantern right out of the Woodsman's hands. It landed at the man's feet with a soft thud. While the Woodsman quickly dropped to his knees to retrieve his child's flame, the teenage boy scrambled away into the forest, without a clue as to where he was going.

 **I cannot believe I actually got this done. I've always gotten super self-conscious when writing for characters I don't own, so the fact that I actually got a decent way into, and am now actually publishing, this mess is somewhat of a miracle. Yes, this is kind of a mess if you haven't noticed. I wrote a lot without really thinking things through, but have now devised a decent-ish structure. Future chapters will focus on one character or group, and will likely be shorter as well. And I will be making at least a few more chapters, both to actually qualify this as a crossover, and because I wrote a song I'm actually somewhat proud of. So look forward to that?**

 **Another thing, I try to** **balance the dark, depressing stuff with lighter misadventures, but that was a little difficult for this part for obvious reasons. I'll try to let up a little for the next few chapters, but it will definitely sink this low again, so be prepared. (I mean most OtGW and a lot of GF fics can get much worse, but I thought I'd give some heads up.)**

 **Comment, review, etc if anyone actually made it this far!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Sorry this took so freaking long, but I'll explain that more later. So logically speaking, this should be the chapter where I introduce Dipper and Mabel. But the thing is, I'm just not in a Gravity Falls mood. It's still winter when I'm writing this, watching a show taking place in summer just feels off somehow. But I'm still on the Over the Garden Wall hype train 3 (er, 4?) months later, so let's continue with Wirt!**

~Wirt~

"Lost. Lost once more with not a single kindred spirit to traverse these rolling hills and desolite forests with. The road ahead is straight, and yet I am as lost as any angel fallen from the heavens, as any demon cast into the light."

Wirt had begun muttering poetry once again, which helpfully set the scene. For the first time in his adventures, he was wandering alone, without his brother or even Beatrice. He didn't think he would miss either of them, but as he traversed the frost bitten land, he found himself longing for some companionship, even if it meant enduring Greg's fruity singing or the bluebird's endless sarcasm.

Eventually, the teenager found a road, which he recognized as one the group had traveled on previously.

("That's strange, this is the first time I've backtracked since getting here. Well, hopefully Greg got the same idea.")

The road was mostly abandoned, but whenever a cart did pass by they would recklessly speed up without even giving him a chance to speak.

("Rude…")

Wirt thought somewhat scornfully when a particularly nearsighted driver had forced him to jump back onto the dusty ground.

("Whatever. If memory serves, this should be about where… aha!")

Out of the thickets appeared a quaint little tavern, with a faint glow of warmth and a cheery tune coming from within. The Dark Lantern. Wirt remembered that the people within had helped him days ago, albeit after enduring a litany of embarrassing (and sometimes just plain weird) musical numbers.

Wirt opened the tavern's door carefully, not wanting to make a scene. But he failed to account for his new head ornament, as they promptly and suddenly halted him from his progress, banging against the doorframe and causing twelve pairs of eyes to be cast upon him. Ironically, the boy was already used to ducking down before entering a building, but not turning sideways. The jaunty tune that had been blended into the background ceased, casting an uneasy silence throughout the building.

"Ummm, hey guys. It's me, Wir- I mean, the Pilgrim. Long time no see?"

The Pilgrim was met with more stoney silence. Noticing he was still standing outside, he took the opportunity to finally slip into the building, carefully twisting as to not catch in the doorframe again.

"So, Anyway, I know that I'm breaking the unspoken rule of returning to a place after dramatically rushing away from it, but the thing is… I kind of messed up. I have to find Greg. He was that little kid who was with me who you guys ignored for some reason even when he stole your food. Remember?"

As the boy took another step forward, the collected group of the Dark Lanturn took a step back. The Apprentice hid behind his Master. The Toymaker grabbed something off the shelf and scurried into a far corner. The Highwayman was the Highwayman. The Tailor sobbed uncontrollably. The old Sheepdog… well the Sheepdog was still sound asleep, but he would have moved had he been awake. Only the Tavernkeeper starred the teenager down.

"You aren't welcome here, Beast."

She deadpanned in her strained, high-pitched voice. Wirt knit his brows in confusion.

"Me? So I'm the Beast now?"

("Is that why everyone's been avoiding me? Is that why Greg…?")

"Hey wait a second, last time you said the Woodsman was the Beast! You said-"

Wirt's voice rises a bit, both out of irritation and to imitate the Tavernkeeper's accent,

"'He who carries the dark lantern must be the Beast.' And while we're on the subject, isn't the name of this place 'The Dark Lantern'? So if we were to go off that logic wouldn't you-"

Wirt's rant was interrupted by a broom to the face.

"Out, out, out! We don't want you here, begone!"

Behind the frenzied Tavernkeeper, the other patrons got over their fear and cheered her on.

"Yeah, get out of here!"

"Show no mercy!"

"You did this to us!"

"Git 'em, giiit 'em!"

As he was being beaten, Wirt couldn't help but recall Beatrice's similar predicament.

(" _Curse you lady, curse you! You will die someday and I will laugh! Laugh! Hahahahaha!_ ")

While he would never put things quite so bluntly, he did feel somewhat similarly about the button-nosed women now that he was also on the receiving end of the cleaning instrument. As he was forced out of the tavern (getting stuck in the doorframe once more for good measure), the chestnut haired teen was just as happy to not have the bluebird along as a witness. The heavy wooden door slammed in his face, and Wirt turned around in a huff, ready to go somewhere- anywhere, away from the tavern. Perhaps uncle Endicott would be somewhat more hospitable?

But before he could recall which direction the group had valiantly galloped off to those many nights ago, a vibrantly dressed man pushed his way into his immediate line of sight. The man who now dominated Wirt's field of view wore a tricorn hat with a ridiculously large peacock feather, a long brightly colored coat, and ruffles that could probably smother the man if he looked down too far. And most flamboyantly of all, he wore a wide grin that blinded low flying birds. His demeanor was in stark contrast with the tavern people's, but Wirt wasn't sure he preferred this attitude. Not when it was right in his face.

"Good evening, young lad! Hail and well met!"

The strange man thankfully backed up a few paces to make an elaborate bow, giving Wirt some much needed personal space.

"It's, uh, not even past noon."

Wirt had no way of knowing what the exact time was, but it certainly wasn't evening yet.

"Details, details."

The stranger even managed to turn the simple act of waving a hand dismissively into a performance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you! I am but a humble man known simply as, the Bard."

"The… Bard? Like the guy my English teacher has a secret memorial for?"

"No! Well, perhaps~"

The man who called himself the Bard gave a peevish smile that made Wirt more than a bit uncomfortable. But before he could find an excuse to leave, the man moved on to a slightly more relevant topic.

"You look like you might be in some need of assistance!"

"Well, technically, yes?"

Wirt was caught somewhat off guard. Did he look that needy? Was his shirt torn? His face disheveled? Wirt was shaken from his thoughts as the man boomed a response.

"Excellent!"

Despite this strange set up, Wirt dared to hope this man might actually be helpful. That hope was crushed with the next line.

"Would you like to hear my song?"

"A song? Uh, sorry, but I don't see how that's going to-"

"Nonsense! A song is a perfect solution to lift your wayward spirit!"

Wirt wanted to object more, not having to listen through a barrage of embarrassing musical numbers was the only good thing about this more recent tavern visit. But this man was the first person who was kind to him since he woke up, and he seemed so… enthusiastic. One song couldn't hurt.

As soon as the teenager agreed, the Bard set up a stage at inhuman speed. Well, "stage" was a bit of a stretch. It was more like an overturned box with a colorful backboard, but it was more than Wirt expected. At sometime during the exchange, the two had moved further from the Dark Lantern, nearer to the border between forest and road. Then the man brought out an old acoustic guitar, strangely plain when compared to the rest of his appearance, and began a slow drawing strum. As the mood was set and silence fell, the guitar hummed slightly louder, and the man began to sing.

There once was a girl * _strum*_

As pretty as a chalice * _strum*_

As sweet as a rose

Without hints of malice * _strum strum*_

She entered through these humble doors

As if they were a palace

And her name, my poor lost lover boy

(Wirt starts to protest but the singer pays no mind.)

Her name, oh her name, was Alice—

(The Bard plays an elaborate guitar riff, then significantly speeds up the tempo for the rest of the song.)

She came into this forest

Not too long ago

Brought peace and light to those

Who would enter her abode

Yet the Beast, the monster,

The demon in these woods

Choked her with his oakwood grip

And stole her childhood

But the girl would not give up

Wouldn't fall down that deep slope

A spark, a simple, single spark

Fueled her everlasting hope

The people were all happy

The Beast taken aback

For not once in a thousand souls

Had someone lived through his attack

Despite his past actions

The dark Beast fell in love

The two met once

On a half moon night

A pair of erstwhile doves

The rose and oak were merry

But the latter's soul was aged

Admirance for the young strong heart

Twisted into outrage

It was on the next

Dark half moon night

The once girl was content

The Beast came to her

Whispered farewells

And deftly snuffed her light

That is where

This story ends

I hope nothing was amiss

Just don't forget

Through all these years

That her name, her name, was Alice—

The Bard banged out one last guitar solo, then ended on a single wavering note. As he gave a bow (ironically a humbler bow then the first he gave when the two first met), Wirt's head was still spinning, trying to comprehend what he had just listened to. Based on the first verse of the song, he had assumed this would be a simple love story, standard Romanticism stuff. Yet after the tempo picked up, he had heard some familiar sounding phrases, and some metaphors that hit strangely close to home. But the song went by far too quickly for him to understand much of anything! If only he could look at the lyrics written down…

"Um, that was, very nice. Did you write it yourself?"

Wirt hopes the question didn't come off as rude, but it was the first thing he thought of to say.

"Oh no no no, this was written long ago by my mentor's mentor's mentor's mentor. Although some things have been changed since then."

The Bard stroked his ruffles as if they were a beard.

"Oh."

"However, I have not been idle! I have written many a tune and plan on continuing! In fact, I was just about to drop off some sheet music to the good tavern folk."

"Huh, so you write the songs played in the Dark Lantern?"

"Indeed, every song ever sung in that establishment came from my pen. Did you really think they're witty enough to come up with such rhymes on the spot?"

"Oh, huh…"

Wirt had to think for a moment before realizing,

"Hey, wait a minute! How-?!"

It the Bard had already disappeared into the tavern. The Pilgrim had no desire to try reasoning with the people inside a second time, so he turned away, back into the woods. The sky was darkening from thick blanket of clouds gathering on the horizon. The lost, lonely soul began again on his winding, straightforward road.

"Wait!"

Despite the fact that this chapter had clearly wrapped up already, the Bard had thought of something so vitally important that he was shouting out of the tavern's window at the departing Pilgrim.

"What is it?!"

Wirt turned around quickly, abruptly leaving the world inside his mind.

"That song I sang to you, it was filled with lies, I'm sorry!"

"What? What are you talking about?!"

The Bard was in tears as he made his confession.

"Her name wasn't Alice! It was Jessica! I changed it, *sob*, so it would rhyme better!"

"Um… Ok. Thanks for letting me know?"

"I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!"

While the Bard continued to beg for reconciliation, Wirt had already turned back to the forest, a blanket of clouds gathering on the horizon, etc etc you know the drill.

 **So, this took** _ **way**_ **longer than I meant it too, especially since it's much shorter than the last chapter. I have** _ **no idea**_ **why it took me so long... *nervously shoves Breath of the Wild and Pokemon Ultra Moon under a pillow* But I haven't been as idle as it seemed, I actually got a fair amount done in terms of fleshing out the rest of this. So that's something. The next chapter will probably be Greg and Beatrice, and after that Dipper and Mabel will finally be introduced. Spoilers sort of I guess sorry. No idea when it'll be out, hopefully sooner than this chapter but no promises. And expect chapter lengths similar to this from now on.**

 **Also before I disappear again I'd like to give a massive thank you to those who commented on the last chapter! Without your support I doubt this chapter would have ever been completed, late or otherwise.**


End file.
